


Left for the lights always in season

by iamnotokpop



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Avengers Family, French Bucky Barnes, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 12:50:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotokpop/pseuds/iamnotokpop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is strong. He doesn't need to rely on anybody and he certainly doesn't need some scrawny country boy with nice hands trying to change his mind.</p><p>(Bucky is the French boy who moves in with his cousin Sam and is determined not to be happy about it. Steve works in Sam's restaurant and teaches Bucky what strong really is.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left for the lights always in season

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a playlist I made for this fic if you want to listen to it:  
> http://8tracks.com/bruderlin/strong

They arrive at the train station at eight in the evening. The summer sun is still lingering in a soft glow but Bucky wishes it were darker so he could see the stars.

 

The station itself is only a platform and a tiny building, with a solitary figure standing by the weathered bench. Bucky assumes this is Riley.

 

“Bucky.” Natasha’s voice is quiet in a way only Bucky recognises as worried. The train draws to a halt. “Don’t be nervous. This place will be good for us. A fresh start.”

 

Bucky nods but stays quiet. Natasha’s English rolls off her tongue in a way he could never dream of achieving. He’s always been less comfortable with anything other than French, and from the look in her eye Natasha can tell he’s avoiding practising but for once she doesn’t push it.

 

They’re the only passengers who get off, and Riley’s grin is wide and welcoming as he strides over the two paces it takes to reach them.

 

“Hey!” Riley greets warmly, all unpractised confidence and easy kindness. “You must be Sam’s cousins? I’m Riley, his husband. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

 

Bucky lingers awkwardly as Natasha shakes his hand with a charming smile. “I’m Natasha, this is my brother Bucky.”

 

He nods his head in greeting.

 

Riley seems to take the slightly cold front in his stride. “Well, let’s get going then. Is this everything?” He asks, gesturing towards their one suitcase.

 

“Yes, this is ours.” Natasha’s reply is easy but Bucky glowers at him, daring him to judge.

 

The judgement doesn’t seem to come, and all he does is smile again and lead the way towards his van. Bucky settles into the middle seat at the front compartment as best he can as Natasha and Riley chat around him.

 

“Sorry I couldn’t drive you guys in a more attractive vehicle. I run a florist on the main street and I use this to drive my flowers to the shop. It’s not very good-looking but it works.” His tone is fond and he pats the dashboard affectionately.

 

“I think it’s lovely.” Natasha says and Bucky knows she actually means it.

 

The drive is only fifteen minutes, as Sam’s home and restaurant is just slightly away from the rest of the small town. By the time they arrive it has grown dark, their drive only lit up by the headlights out front, but as soon as they turn onto the last street Bucky spots a large sandy coloured building, illuminated in warm light.

 

The tires crunch over gravel as Riley steers them through a neat parking area. Bucky ducks his head – just to have a look, he’s not _excited_ or anything – and he can see through the windows into the large dining area of the restaurant. It’s full of laughing faces, in groups or pairs or by themselves. Waiters weave in between them depositing mouth-watering dishes.

 

Bucky’s stomach claws at itself, his hunger lashing out more than usual at the sight of it. The van moves past the front of the establishment to the back, where a few more cars are parked.

 

“This is the staff and family car park.” Riley explains, pulling up beside a rusted green jeep. “There’s also a door to go into the house here, but I can never be bothered coming around the back. Plus, if you go through the restaurant you get to smell all of Dugan’s cooking.”

 

They pile out of the van, Bucky dragging their suitcase up to the door. They’re led up a narrow stone staircase and through a door into the second floor housing area.

 

The first thing Bucky notices is that it’s comfortingly warm. In fact, that’s the way Bucky would describe the whole place – comforting.

 

The hallway they first step into is all browns and creams and soft carpets, expensive looking art thrown together with smiling photos in a way that shouldn’t work but is just so _comforting._ Riley is pointing out which rooms would be theirs – and Bucky’s heart leaps like a little boy’s at the thought of his _own room._  He drops their suitcase into Natasha's.

 

The hallway turns a corner and then they’re standing in an open plan living space, which somehow manages to look spacious and cozy at the same time. There’s a jumble of couches and armchairs with soft cushions around a fireplace, a small neat kitchen that overlooks a dining area with enough chairs to seat a small army. Beyond that there is a door that Bucky tunes in to hear Riley explain is Sam’s office, but if they ever want to use it for something all they have to do is check with either Sam or Riley.

 

Bucky glances over at Natasha and she can always tell what he’s thinking so she _knows_ he’s excited but the small grin on her face looks a bit too much like an I-told-you-so and Bucky tries to tamp down on his emotions before he forgets himself.

 

Of course he’s a bit excited – Bucky has never dared to dream of living in a place like this for years. Since their parents died five years ago Bucky and Natasha have lived in two separate places; a small apartment that had one room, a bathroom and a small multipurpose area, then for the most part they lived in a space that had one room that they slept and ate in and communal bathrooms they shared with the rest of the floor. It’s only natural that his heart will be going a little wild at the sight of this place but his head remains firmly in place – he has no reason to be happy about this.

 

“Natasha? Bucky?” a voice calls from across the room, and the pair turn to see the office door open and their cousin Sam practically skipping over beaming. “It’s been so long!”

 

“Hello Sam.” Natasha laughs, hugging back as the man pulls her into his arms. “Thank you so much for this.”

 

“It’s my pleasure Natasha, really.” Sam insists as they move apart. He turns to hug Bucky, and he subconsciously flinches away. Kind brown eyes flash with hurt that’s quickly washed away. The diverted hug turns into an awkward pat on the head and Bucky tries to pretend he doesn’t feel a rush of guilt. “You’ve grown so much, Buck.”

 

“I hope so. The last time you saw me I was twelve.” He replies, and Sam laughs, wrapping an arm around Riley’s waist.

 

“Still got the sass, I see.”

 

Natasha snorts. “Oh, definitely still got the sass.” Bucky sends a glare her way, which is ignored.

 

That night after the restaurant is closed and the house is falling asleep Bucky makes sure to remind himself not to get carried away.

 

 

XXXX

 

 

Bucky is not weak.

 

It’s something he picked up from his sister, her complete independence. When Natasha became his legal guardian at 18 the pair of them learnt they had to grow tough skin fast. Of course, as with everything, Natasha wears it better than him. Bucky never could master the cheerful smile and open attitude the way she could.

 

Not that Bucky minded, of course. It made it easier to distance himself from people, to make sure he never relied on anybody but himself. His friends had been understanding when his parents first died, but twelve year olds who have never lost anyone in their entire lives become less understanding and more irritated pretty quickly.

 

After a botched ‘intervention’ in which one of his friends had ended up with a broken nose and Bucky with a suspension nobody bothered him again. Until the first day of year eleven when someone decided it would be a funny idea to try to ‘loosen the moody prick up’ and landed himself with a broken leg, wrist and collarbone and Bucky with an expulsion.

 

Natasha had cried when she found out. Watching his sister trying not to break down in the principal’s office was by far the worst punishment he ever got.

 

He didn’t attempt to get back to school. If you were expelled from one school you were out of the whole public school system, and no way in hell could they afford a private school. So after months of applications he finally got a job at a fast food chain near their flats and did what he could to help his sister.

 

Things seemed to be going fine –depressing, boring, but steady- when the supermarket Natasha was assistant manager at closed down. Their money rapidly disappeared and eventually Natasha had to call Sam for help. The sour look on Natasha’s face as she asked if they could possibly – _maybe, if it’s okay, of course you don’t have to_ – come stay with him for a little while would have been almost comical if Bucky hadn’t been certain he had the same expression.

 

Bucky is determined to find a way out of this. He's got absolutely no idea what he  _can_ do but he'll figure something out and when he turns eighteen he'll support Natasha properly and he'll move out and they'll be  _fine._

 

He doesn't need Sam's charity. He doesn't need anybody's help but his own.

 

 

XXXX

 

 

Bucky’s already awake when the sound of car doors opening and shutting drift through his window.

 

Natasha had come into his room early that morning. The moon was still up and she looked so strangely fragile in the pale light that he immediately pulled her onto the bed and wrapped the blanket around the both of them.

 

“Buck…” she had started, and frowned slightly as she thought over her words. “I know you really didn’t want to come here but… I don’t want that to make you hate this place. Sam told me he has a lot of part time workers here that are your age. You could make some friends.”

 

Bucky had almost laughed but she sounded so hopeful he stopped himself. “I’m sure they’ll be champing at the bit to be friends with me.”

 

A small frown creased her forehead. “ _Mon petit oiseau_ …” She stopped herself with a shake of her head, stubbornly going back to English. “You’re a great person. Even if you aren’t always the best at showing it.” There’s a slight pause before she continues. “I just want you to be happy here.”

 

Bucky had nodded silently, and watched as Natasha left the room with a quiet, “Goodnight, Buck.”

 

Now, Bucky frowns at the ceiling.

 

_I just want you to be happy here._

 

He groans, and rolls over to smash his face into the pillow. He’s never been able to say no to his sister. After all she’s done for him, never asking for anything in return…

 

Bucky turns his head to the side so he can breathe, gulping in air.

 

He would do it for Natasha. He would make friends for Natasha. Or, well, he would try. All Nat has to see is him being nice to a few people and a few people being nice back and she'll be happy and he can go back to being the weird loner kid.

 

With superhuman effort he rolls out of bed, smiling slightly in appreciation as he stretches out his back. It’s summer and far too hot for jeans but without any other options he slips them on. After yanking fingers through his hair in an attempt at making it appear tidy, he pulls on a shirt and his battered trainers and heads out the door.

 

His sister’s room is empty so he follows the voices downstairs. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs that lead into the kitchen, he pauses, unsure what to do.

 

There’s a group of people gathered in the kitchen around the end of one of the long stainless steel benches. Among the laughing and chatting bunch at the stove is Sam, bent over a huge wok. Just as Bucky is about to call it a day and hightail it back to his room, a short scrawny looking boy glances up and – no no _why_ \- makes eye contact with him. He has to admit (objectively, of course), that he’s got one hell of a pretty face, but right now he wants to kick the pretty face because it’s smiling and turning to Sam and-

 

“Hey, who’s this?” he asks, his voice much deeper than Bucky would have expected. Sam turns around and follows the boy’s pointing finger at Bucky who is now looming even more awkwardly in the doorway across the room. He’s more than a little surprised when Sam’s face immediately brightens, smiling wide.

 

“Bucky! Come over here, don’t be shy.”

 

Bucky grits his teeth and makes his way over to the group who are now silent, looking at him curiously. _For Natasha, for Natasha._

 

Sam tilts his head towards him, his smile never leaving his face. “Everybody, this is Bucky, my cousin. He’s living upstairs with me, introduce yourselves.”

 

The short boy who had dragged him into this hell is smiling like he's done him a favour and is holding out his hand. “Hi, I’m Steve. Steve Rogers, that is. Nice to meet you.”

 

Bucky tries to soften his usual glower into a semblance of a smile and shakes the boy’s hand that’s - despite their differing heights - the same size as his own. (Except with much longer fingers. _Man those are nice fingers_ ).

 

The grin he gets in return is like punch to the stomach because _who smiles like that with teeth and crinkly eyes and what the fuck is that a dimple–_

 

Before he can recover a bowl filled with some sort of noodle dish is thrust into his hands by Steve. Bucky stares.

 

“It’s breakfast time.” Steve supplies, gesturing to some of the people who are making their way into the dining area with bowls of their own. A fair few of them shooting nervous looks at Bucky over their shoulders. Bucky can respect that.

 

“This does not look like breakfast food.” He studies the noodly dish as he sits down next to Steve at a large table. “What is it?”

 

“Anything’s a breakfast food if you eat it at breakfast.” Then, after a very short pause, “You’re French?”

 

Bucky raises an eyebrow and ignores the question in favour of stabbing a piece of chicken onto his fork. Even he has to admit the food is… pretty good.

 

After a few minutes of silent eating he looks up to find Steve’s eyes glued to his face.

 

“What?” he snaps, suddenly paranoid he has food on his face or gunk in his eye or something equally embarrassing.

 

A blush colours Steve’s cheeks in a way that is very _not_ cute and he glances down for a second. “Sorry – no, ah, it's nothing. Do you like the food?”

 

Bucky narrows his eyes but ultimately determines it’s not worth pursuing and shrugs. “I suppose it’s fine.” He thinks it’s _very_ fine, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

 

The other boy snorts. “Singing praise indeed.”

 

Bucky doesn’t answer this time. He can feel Steve’s eyes boring into the top of his skull again but before he can snap at him a girl slides into the chair next to Steve.

 

“You left me stranded in the kitchen.” She pouts, and rests her chin in her palm. Bucky morosely notes to himself that this girl is also very pretty. _This town I swear to god…_

 

Steve laughs, poking her forehead playfully. “Sorry Bells. Here, this is Bucky.”

 

‘Bells’ cast an eye over to Bucky, the expression on her face one he recognises far too well. He’s seen it on other people in the past who think they're better than everyone else just because they were born into money. Bucky doesn’t think it’s too early to hate her.

 

“Hey.” ‘Bells’ smiles at him charmingly.

 

“This is Bella. She’s one of the waiters.”

 

“Why are you all here anyway?” Bucky asks, looking around at the other people sitting down and eating.

 

“Maybe because we work here?” Bella raises a delicate eyebrow as she speaks, then giggles like made an adorable joke. Bucky glares.

 

“I mean,” Bucky gives her the look he usually reserves for noisy eaters and people who are rude to the elderly, “why are you all here this early when the restaurant opens at lunchtime?”

 

Steve laughs (unnecessarily, Bucky thinks), seemingly oblivious to the tension. “Me and the other garden workers have to get here early to tend to everything and to get everything the kitchen staff needs for the food at lunchtime.”

 

Bella smirks as she studies her nails. “Although I’m pretty sure the only reason Peggy turns up for morning shift is for the free breakfast.”

 

“You’re not wrong.” The voice came from girl plonking down on the chair next to him. She looks just about ready to drop and ready to cut the next person who crosses her. Bucky likes her already. The new girl glances up at Bella. “Although we all know you’re here to try and get into Steve’s pants.” She ignores Bella’s cry of ‘shut your mouth Peggy’ and squints in Bucky’s direction. “I’m Peggy. Bucky, right?” Bucky nods, not sure what to say. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really bloody gorgeous?”

 

Bucky blinks in disbelief, and he hears Steve spluttering across the table. He wants to go back to bed now.

 

“Not really.” He answers quietly instead. “Natasha says that I glare too much and it scares people.”

 

“Natasha?”

 

“My sister.”

 

“You have a sister?’ Bella interrupts, head tilted to the side in a manner that Bucky assumes is meant to be sweet.

 

He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth at the stupid question before answering. “Yes.”

 

“Is she here with you?”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Why did you move to America?”

 

“Hey kids.” Bucky looks up to see Sam making his way over to the table. Just in time, he can feel his eye starting to twitch. Bella looks peeved. It’s a good look for her. “Eat up, you’re going to be late for school.” Peggy lets out a groan across the table and if anything seems to slow down. “Could you guys take Bucky? Don’t want you to get lost.”

 

Bucky squirms in his seat as Steve eagerly agrees.

 

“Uh, Sam?” he pipes up, clearing his throat. “You don’t have to, I’m not going.”

 

A look of confusion passes over his face, his head tilting slightly. “What do you mean? You’re the same age as Peggy and Steve, shouldn’t you be in year twelve?”

 

Bucky stares icily at his fork. “I dropped out in year ten.”

 

“Oh.”

 

He hears Bella scoff and is about to pull her pretty hair out when Sam keeps talking. “Well then, you can work here with your sister, if you like?”

 

He looks up hesitantly to see Sam smiling down at him.

 

“Uh.” He can’t help the warm ball that appears in his chest. “Okay. I mean – yes definitely.”

 

“Great! I’ll get Clint to show you around in a minute.” He turns to the others menacingly. “You lot still have to get to school. Come on, out with you.”

 

The three get up from their chairs, Peggy grumbling.

 

“See you around, Bucky!” Steve grins cheerily, and the warmth fizzes slightly. Before he knows it the three are out the door.

 

Sam claps a solid hand on Bucky’s shoulder and he tries not to let himself bask in it but, well, easier said than done.

 

**Author's Note:**

> *FRANTICALLY WRITES STUCKY AND HAPPY AVENGERS FAMILY BEFORE CIVIL WAR COMES ALONG AND INEVITABLY FUCKS EVERYTHING UP*
> 
> Here's a playlist I made for this fic if you want to listen to it:
> 
> http://8tracks.com/bruderlin/strong


End file.
